Since when do you care about an MX?
by flippingthevan
Summary: Det. Paul has a very bad day and nobody to distract him but his MX. This leads to a little 'slip-up' that has more consequences than he thought possible. [Richard/MX-43; a bit of one-sided Richard/Valerie]
1. Intro: Thanks for the coffee

This is a multi-chaptered story about Detective Richard Paul hooking up with his MX. Because he needs some love too! (I mean Richard, but it also goes for the MX, I guess ^^ ) And I always end up shipping unpopular underdog pairings, so there you go. Ah well! I hope Det. Paul has some more fans out there and it's not just me ;)

Thanks a lot to Shirokuri for beta-reading!

* * *

When Richard arrives at the bullpen this morning, he's not really in the best of moods. Today is one of the worst days of the year for him.

His MX-43 in tow, he makes his way down the few steps and to his desk, giving a short nod to a few guys in silent greeting. He gets out of his coat unenthusiastically and hangs it over the back of the chair. From the corner of his eye he notices his MX sitting down on its allotted seat. Richard snaps his finger at it.

"Hey, come on. Get up."

The MX moves its head to look at the human detective, no emotion whatsoever on its blank face, but there's a slight, automated movement of its eyebrows that mimics a questioning expression. Richard is about to tell his MX not to sit down until it gets him coffee when his eyes catch something unexpected on his desk: There's already a mug of coffee _right there_. He pauses for a moment, puzzled, then reaches out to wrap his right hand around the mug to check the temperature.

The coffee is hot.

"Uh... forget it," he mutters to his MX, which stays glued to its chair, silent and motionless.

Slowly sitting down on his own chair, Richard looks around the large room suspiciously. Nobody is watching him for his reaction to the coffee, so he just accepts the unresolved mystery for now and starts his computer. After typing in his username and password and additionally confirming his identity by providing the touch-sensitive screen with his fingerprint to get access to his crucial work files, he takes a sip of the unhoped-for coffee. Well, it's not as sweet as he likes it, but at least it's black with no milk or cream.

He gets down to work.

* * *

About half an hour later, Valerie stops at his desk, crossing her arms in front of her chest and giving him a small – and almost teasing – smile when he looks up to her.

"Happy birthday," she says simply and in her naturally kind and soft-spoken manner. Then she demonstratively peeks into the now empty mug that Richard had pushed to the far corner of his cluttered desk. "I see you enjoyed the coffee…"

He pulls a face as if he didn't really care much, leans back in his chair and regards his co-worker with a smug look. "Could've used some more sugar, but it was okay, I guess."

Valerie rolls her eyes a bit, but she's still sporting a calm, reserved smile. "You're welcome anyway."

Richard doesn't say "thank you", and there's an awkward silence between them for a moment. But, they've had worse. He once asked her out and it didn't go down well. That was a long time ago, barely a few weeks after Valerie had been transfered to this precinct, so it's all just water under the bridge now, especially because nothing ever really happened between them. But on Richard's part, some of the old bitter feelings came back like an unwanted boomerang as soon as Kennex entered the scene and sparks started flying between him and Stahl. Richard already has enough reason to dislike the guy, and this little personal aspect only adds to his aversion. Never feels good to see another man easily swoop the trophy you failed to snatch for yourself.

It's not a broken heart that makes him take a dig at Valerie every once in a while; he's not in love with her, after all. (Frankly, he still isn't really over his ex-wife, although it has been _years_.) It's just a wounded ego of a too-proud man who always gets the short end of the stick. Valerie either ignores his snippy comments, or she shoots back with a verbal smackdown when she's had enough and won't put up with his macho behaviour anymore. But all of this happens only every now and then. On the whole, they've somehow managed to come to terms with each other. They actually work well together, even have respect for each other's professional competence and proficiency. They probably never will be close friends, but on most days, they can be peaceful and efficient co-workers. Nobody wants to fight a war here. They're both a part of the same team. That's why Valerie got him a fresh coffee this morning for his birthday.

And on most days, Richard is professional and doesn't let his personal moods and feelings get in the way. But then there are moments in which he just can't help it.

When he catches Valerie sharing a lingering look and a cute smile with Kennex across the room, he sneers and asks her bluntly: "So, did Pegleg ask you out yet?"

Stahl's gaze shifts back to Paul, her smile fading to give way to a serious expression.

"Richard…," she says with that typical undertone she's always using when she wants to scold him without getting loud or explicit. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" he asks promptly, just to provoke her. He knows exactly what she means, of course.

Valerie's lips tighten a bit, but she doesn't answer him. She's too smart to let herself get dragged into this.

"Have a nice day, Richard," she says, with the obvious intent to end this exchange before it gets ugly. "I hope you enjoy your party later."

"Sure. Will do." He doesn't even look at her now, as he's focused on his mobile phone and fumbling around with the settings. Of course he doesn't tell her that there won't be a party. There won't even be a special dinner. Nothing. The truth is, he doesn't really have anybody to celebrate this day with. Sure, some of the guys would come along for a drink after shift, but Richard's not really in the mood for that.

"Uhm, Valerie...," he says after she already turned around to walk away. "Thanks for the coffee, okay?"

She looks back at him over her slender shoulder and nods with a tiny, almost regretful smile. "Yeah."

He watches her go over to Dorian and Kennex, and her smile widens to a beautiful, stunning grin as the three of them engage in some easy and carefree chitchat. Quickly, Richard goes through some more of his files, answers a couple of e-mails (only the urgent ones), and then gets up from his chair.

"Come," he says to his MX that stands up on his command while Richard grabs his coat. "Let's get on the street."


	2. I do not advise that, sir

Richard has really hated his birthday ever since he got divorced. He's got no problem with aging per se. People usually guess him older than he is, anyway. It's just that days like these (more precisely, days you're supposed to celebrate with your family and loved ones) remind him of everything he has lost and won't get back. It's the same with Christmas. He fucking hates Christmas. On any given national holiday, he's always the first one at the precinct to volunteer for the unpopular work shifts.

Of all the shitty birthdays, this one really takes the cake. Richard's mood takes a tumble for the worse as the day nosedives from "kind of annoying" all the way to "utterly disastrous." Little everyday mishaps like spilling his coffee-to-go over the front of his neatly ironed shirt take turns with unfortunate events such as a sudden heavy downpour soaking him to the skin while they have to record the details of a car crash they happened to come by. In the evening, everything comes to an aggravating climax when they are already on their way back to the police station after Richard's shift ends.

He's so fed up with this whole day and just wants to deliver his MX to the facility where he will pick it up again tomorrow on the way to work. It's still raining and it's getting dark now, so he's driving a little slower than he would like to. Really, all he wants is to finally get home, watch some stupid TV trash to help take his mind off things, and then go to bed early. Bad-tempered silence surrounds him like a thick wall. His MX, riding shotgun, is smart enough to leave him alone and not start talking to him either. Over the long time it's been assigned to Richard, it has come to analyze and learn the human detective's nonverbal signals and mostly can adjust to them accordingly.

For a while, the only sounds to be heard are the car engine and the raindrops drumming on the metal roof and hood. They are in a line of vehicles, waiting for a red light to turn green, when an open dispatch announcement comes through the intercom. There's an armed robbery at a late-night shop only a few blocks away. Three or four assailants, apparently.

Richard glances at the digital clock of the car controls and frowns. Technically, his shift ended seven minutes ago. This is really great.

He activates the siren and, with just one hand on the wheel, sheers the car out of the line to accelerate in the clear oncoming traffic lane. With his free hand he's pushing the intercom button.

"Detective Paul here. We're on it. Will be on location in two minutes. Send backup."

* * *

As expected, Richard is the first police officer to reach the scene. And shit goes down even before the first backup team arrives. The robbers are hiding in the shop, using the shelves as barricades. They know that a cop is out there, and it makes them even more aggressive. It's the dangerous, unpredictable kind of aggressiveness, the one that is fueled by blind despair. After the MX puts up the holographic barrier tape, it takes cover behind their parked car right next to Richard. It's armed and ready-to-go and waits for instructions. Richard can hear the perps' shouts through the broken shop windows. Apparently, they had taken the shop owner and a few customers hostage and are threatening to kill them if they aren't granted free escape. Richard tries to buy some time. He tries to talk the guys out of doing anything that will put them in prison for the rest of their lives. He promises them a fair trial and that it will be taken into consideration if they are willing to cooperate now and put down the guns before it's too late, before anybody is harmed, but they don't want to hear any of it.

"Fuck off, man!" is the only answer he receives. Well, that and a first shot that hits the car. There's screaming inside of the shop and more shooting. Richard shares a quick look with his MX and then reports to central control.

"Where's the backup? Over." He waits for the immediate response and unlocks the safety of his gun.

"On their way, Detective Paul. Keep the suspects in check for a few more minutes. Over."

"We don't have a few more minutes. Suspects opened fire. I can't tell if there are casualties. Send an ambulance as a precaution. We'll go in now. Out."

* * *

It's one of the rare instances that Richard and his MX-43 split up. Usually he keeps the MX close on missions, especially during combat situations. The androids are helpful and necessary tools to get the job done with as little harm to the human cops as possible, and it's always risky to go separate ways while being targeted. One of the top priorities of the MX units is to protect, assist and shield their respective human partners, but an even higher priority is the safety of innocent civilians. Richard's MX nods and says "Yes, sir" when he instructs it to carefully check the back entrance and, if possible, sneak inside to take out the gang from behind. Even if the opponents already expect someone to enter the rear door, they'd still have the advantage of pressing them from both sides.

"I'll keep them busy from here. Go." Richard just hopes that's enough distraction, but they don't really have much of a choice.

In the end, the simple plan works out pretty well. The MX easily manages to get access to the shop without producing noise while Richard attempts another conversation with the criminals to keep them focused on the front windows and door. As soon as his MX gives away its presence by shooting two of the robbers in their legs with inhuman speed and accuracy, making them drop to the floor and then disarming them, Richard gets out from his cover and runs the few meters to the wall of the building, his gun loaded and at the ready. There's a lot of screaming and chaos inside, and just as he tries to get a good peek through the destroyed window and check the overall situation before he gets in there too, the front door swings open with a bang and an armed man storms outside. Richard could easily shoot him in the back from his current position, but that goes against protocol and ethics, so it doesn't even cross his mind. He raises his gun though and points it at the runaway.

"Police! Drop your weapon and get on your knees! Hands on your head!" he shouts forcefully. The perp swirls around without really coming to a halt, so he's stumbling a few steps backwards and simultaneously attempting to point his gun at the cop.

"I SAID _DROP YOUR WEAPON!_"

Richard moves quickly, closing in on the man in a half-circle and waiting to fire at him for just one more moment to see if the man changes his mind and will surrender, but he doesn't. He seems determined to go through with it and shoot at a police officer. Richard is ready to beat him to it and be the first one to pull the trigger, but in this very moment the door flies open again and two scared and sobbing young girls run out on the street.

"Stop! GET DOWN!" Richard yells at them so they won't cross the line of fire.

The robber takes his chance and shoots. The bullet grazes Richard's arm, making him wince, but he neither backs up nor drops the gun. Still focused, he shoots back in self-defense a split second later and hits the assailant in the chest, taking him out as the man falls down instantly.

Richard runs towards him, his gun still pointing at the man on the floor. Only after he has kicked the opponent's weapon out of reach and made sure he's no threat anymore does he looks down at his throbbing arm. The sleeve of his beige coat isn't wet only from the rain, obviously. A red stain is quickly spreading on the fabric, soaking it with blood almost all the way from his shoulder down to his elbow. Damn.

A familiar, monotone and ever-neutral voice makes him look up again.

"Detective. You are injured." His MX stands next to him and obviously scans him for more data on his current health status.

"You don't say," Richard replies snarkily.

The sound of approaching sirens interrupts them, and Richard can't help giving an unamused grin at the poor timing of the backup units.

"Somebody's late to the party," he says with dry humour, but his MX doesn't get the joke, as always. Whatever.

* * *

It's kind of ironic that Richard is the one who needs the ambulance he had ordered for potentially injured civilians. On the other hand, it's a good thing that none of the victims took a bullet. The backup teams – guys from the night shift – take over from here, and Richard only needs to confirm the protocol his MX transfered to the databank. He'll write his own extensive report tomorrow morning.

The female paramedic patches him up and assures him that it looks worse than it actually is. There's a lot of blood, but the wound doesn't go deep. They don't even have to take him to the hospital if he doesn't want to, and _no, he doesn't want to_. He lets her clean and staple the wound and bandage his arm before he puts the ruined shirt and damp coat back on. He nods at the paramedic as she hands him a small tube with pain killers and then gets out of the ambulance. His tall MX stands right next to the large vehicle and looks at him, like a big loyal dog that has been left in front of the supermarket while its owner goes grocery shopping.

"Get in the car," Richard commands, sounding grumpy and tired at the same time. "_You_ drive."

* * *

It's almost midnight when they're back on the street and on their way to the police facilities. Richard still needs to drop off the MX at the station before he can call it a day, finally. He's exhausted; his arm hurts; his clothes are stained with dried blood, old coffee and sweat; and the whole goddamn day nobody called him on his mobile to say happy birthday. There's probably a good reason for that, and Richard isn't stupid. He knows it's his own fault that he doesn't have any real and close friends and that people don't really care much for him on a personal level, not even at the precinct. It still sucks to feel lonely on days like these, though. Even his brother just sent a short text message to avoid having to talk to him on the phone. Bastard.

In fact, the only one who really thought of him was Valerie Stahl. Somehow this realization makes Richard even more morose. He doesn't want to feel obliged to her, only because she was oh so gracious to tear her pretty doe eyes from Kennex for a second and give Richard a fleeting moment of attention instead. Thank God the day is over now, and it's 364 days until his next birthday.

"How are you feeling, Detective Paul?" his MX suddenly asks. It actually sounds concerned, even if it isn't in a human, compassionate way. Richard looks at its blank face from the side, knitting his eyebrows so that a deep, vertical furrow appears between them.

"Well, I was gunned down on my birthday, how do you think I'm feeling? I couldn't be happier!" His voice drips with sarcasm, but it leaves the android unimpressed. Of course. What's a robot supposed to know about death and birth and sarcasm?

"Are you in need of further medical assistance?" it asks the next question.

"No! Just keep driving." Slightly shaking his shaven head, Richard stares out of the side window. Ten more minutes pass without either of them uttering a word. Fifteen minutes. Sixteen, seventeen, ...

"Stop," Richard suddenly blurts out. He even taps the MX's arm to get it to react the way he wants it to. "Come on, pull over and stop the car."

"Why? We haven't reached..."

"Just do it," Richard cuts off the android's objection. Obeying the human cop's instruction, the MX-43 slows down the car and parks it at the next convenient opportunity at the side of the road.

"Okay, listen up. I'll be over there," Richard points to the flickering neon lights at the entrance of a nearby bar they happened to drive by, "and I'll be back in a minute." He knows it's probably not the best idea to do this, but after a day like this, he really needs a drink and he doesn't have any booze at home. Just a few bottles of beer, but that doesn't count.

His MX looks out the window to see where Richard is pointing to and then turns its head to its partner.

"I do not advise that, sir," it comments and proceeds to rattle off an explanation although Richard didn't ask for its opinion. "Not only does alcohol thin your blood, but mixing it with medication can also lead to harmful or toxic reactions, especially if it is high-proof liquor. It may cause headaches, nausea, loss of coordination or fainting. It could also put you at a risk for heart problems, breathing difficulties, internal..."

"Okay smartass, hold your horses. I didn't take any medication. Also, I'm off duty. And one drink won't kill me. So how about you shut your mouth and wait here for five minutes?"

Richard opens the passenger's door and gets out of the police car. His MX continues to talk to him anyway in its typically unfazed manner.

"While it is correct that you did not consume pain relievers yet, you might reconsider this decision later, due to the gradual increase in pain that is common for the type of injury you suffered," the MX-43 informs him very matter-of-factly. "Therefore, I strongly advise you not to..."

Richard doesn't hear the rest of it as he slams the door of the car shut, effectively muting his MX mid-sentence.

He doesn't look back when he walks along the wet pavement until he reaches the bar and enters.


	3. Over my dead body

Richard knows he looks like shit tonight, and when the bartender catches sight of him as he makes his way to the counter, he can read it in the guy's face, too. It's impossible not to notice the distrustful way the bartender is eyeing up the new arrival who admittedly looks like trouble from a mile away. The bar is pretty crowded and dimly lit, but that doesn't conceal that Richard looks totally beat and that the right sleeve of his coat is painted with dried blood.

"You need help or something?" The bartender seems rather wary of the eye-catching customer and not really genuinely concerned about his well-being. "That looks bad, man."

Pushing himself up on a free bar stool, Richard shoots the handsome young guy a surly look.

"It's all right. Just need a drink."

The bartender doesn't really move much. He still stands there, looking at Richard with an unsure and skeptical frown on his face. "I don't know, man, looks like you're bleeding. Maybe you should have that checked. I could get you an ambulance or..."

Richard's brusque voice cuts him off.

"Listen, kid. I don't need an ambulance, let alone your half-assed advice. Maybe _you_ should take _my_ advice and get me a fucking drink already. Isn't that what you get paid for here, or are you just a pretty decoration to distract from the shabbiness of this dump? Just do your job and stay out of my face, okay?"

* * *

A few minutes later, Richard is sipping on his second double shot of whiskey that the bartender put in front of him on the sticky counter without saying one more word. He just knocked back his first drink, but he's going slower on the second one now. Slowly spinning the glass in his fingers, he goes from reflecting on the past day to reflecting on his whole life. He could have died today, if the perp had been a better shot. Not even his MX could have jumped in the line of fire to take the bullet for him like it had done countless times in the past. It had been too far away, in the shop saving the hostages. As hard as it is to admit, Richard always feels kind of vulnerable without his MX by his side or behind his back, and today's outcome proves this feeling isn't unfounded. His arm is throbbing, but the strong liquor is helping him ignore it.

Yeah, he could've been dead. It's not the first time, though; he's had near death experiences before. Sometimes it's just part of the job, really. But it makes him realize again that he wouldn't leave anything or anyone behind if he got killed on the job, and it's a bitter pill to swallow. Well, his mom would be devastated, he sure knows that. But apart from her, would anyone actually miss him? People – _colleagues_, not really friends – would come to his funeral, but honestly miss him? Doubtful. His ex-wife would probably throw a party to celebrate his eternal disappearance from the face of the Earth. It's weird how you can go to war with somebody you used to love more than your own life.

"Excuse me, somebody sitting here?"

A soft female voice to his left catches his attention and his gaze falls upon a beautiful black-haired woman of Asian descent. She's wearing a snug leather dress that automatically makes him check her out with a quick look up and down her perfect body, until his gaze zooms in on her delicate hand as she's gesturing at the bar stool right next to his. He notices her metallic nail polish. Elegant fingers. No wedding ring.

"No, not yet," Richard says, turning a bit more towards her on his own stool, but before he can even say anything else to her, her gorgeous features morph into a rather deprecatory expression, as if a sudden turn of events is unsettling her. Maybe she realizes that she doesn't want to sit next to a man who obviously got his ass kicked tonight, or he just put her off by simply trying to start a conversation with her, who knows? She probably just wants the free chair and not talk to him. Richard is kind of used to it, to be honest. It's not like beautiful women are queuing up to date him.

"Thanks," she says anyway, probably just being polite. And then she turns around and quickly walks away, merging with the crowd. Richard absently grinds his teeth as he still stares at the spot where the woman had been standing a few seconds ago, only to jump when suddenly the monotone voice of his MX rings out right behind him: "Detective Paul. You said it would take you five minutes to get back to the car. It has now been seven point four eight minutes since you entered this establishment."

"Jesus Christ, do you have to sneak up on me like this?" Richard hisses, turning to his MX that's standing there like a soldier - armed, straight back, dead-serious face and all. It's still looming over him even though he's sitting on this really high bar stool. Why the hell did he get the tallest of all MX models anyway? It was like fate had been laughing at him once again when he picked up his MX for the very first time a few years ago and realized he didn't even reach its goddamn shoulder. All combat androids are huge, but this one is a fucking giant. A giant with a stupid babyface that is staring at Richard expectantly right now. "And thanks for scaring off the ladies. Good job, MX."

Oblivious to its superior's sarcasm, the android looks around, red lights dancing across its cheek as it runs a few scans. A tiny bit of programmed confusion appears on its pale face when it turns to its human partner again. "Sir. None of the female citizens currently present in this room appear to be scared or preparing to flee the location."

"Yeah whatever," Richard mutters, half-heartedly slapping his hand on the abandoned bar stool. "Come on, sit down. I haven't finished my drink."

"Sir," his MX objects, making Richard want to slam his forehead onto the counter, "You shouldn't be drinking alcohol in your current physical state. As your partner, I need to notify you of..."

"Yeah yeah, I get it, now _sit down_, okay?" When the MX still seems to hesitate, Richard adds in exasperation: "This is an order."

He actually expects that damn MX-43 to comment on the fact that they're not on active duty any more and that such an order doesn't make sense anyway, but the android surprises him by doing what it's told and taking a seat at the counter. Only then does Richard notice the bartender gazing at them from a distance where he's busy tapping some beer. He seems a bit nervous about the MX's presence and obviously waits for something to happen. Maybe he mistakes Richard for a criminal who's trying to hide in the bar and now is getting arrested. Richard sure _looks_ like criminal scum tonight.

"What are you staring at, huh?!" The Latino cop leans on the counter with his uninjured arm for support, fixing his dark brown eyes on the guy. "It's just my partner, don't shit your pants. Better make yourself useful and get us another drink."

The MX speaks up next to him, "May I remind you that I don't drink, Detective."

"Oh shut up."

* * *

They end up spending more time at the bar than either of them anticipated. Richard not only drinks his own shots of whiskey, but he also knocks back the one that the bartender actually placed in front of the MX. Probably doesn't want to get himself into hot water with Richard again, especially now that he knows he's a cop. A cop in a very bad mood at that.

It doesn't take long for Richard to feel a little tipsy. The hard liquor gets to his head quickly, making his thoughts tumble and slowly loosening his tongue as well. He hadn't eaten much over the long day – just didn't get around to it. This, combined with the loss of blood not so long ago, makes it difficult for his body to deal with the alcohol, and he finds himself affected a lot faster and stronger than usual when he drinks a few glasses. Not that he's a heavy drinker anyway.

Right beside him, his MX still sits with a straight back and blank face, patiently waiting for his cue to depart. Instead, Richard starts talking to it. At first it's just random comments on people in the bar, then people at work. Especially _annoying_ people at work. He works himself up into a full six-minute tirade about Kennex. Such a dumb and arrogant idiot, and everyone just loves him.

"I wonder what they see in him. He's a fucking pain in the ass," he tells his MX, not expecting any answer from it. He does that a lot - talk to the MX in very one-sided conversations. Every time they have to sit long hours alone in the car, and sometimes even at the precinct when they're at his desk or running their way through the building from A to B, Richard talks and the MX listens, but most of the times it's not really reacting much, except for looking at him maybe. It's a bit like talking to a pet, Richard figures. He never had a pet, so he wouldn't really know, but the similarities are kind of obvious. Cats and dogs listen to your issues without talking back to you, and even though you know that they don't really understand what you're talking about you feel a little better afterwards. You can get pretty used to it.

Minutes go by and Richard doesn't even realize it, but he's changing topic a lot, suddenly talking about his ex-wife and that douchebag she left him for. How they're playing happy family and shit.

"You know, she really couldn't wait to get through with the divorce. Not even half a year later she was married again, to that stupid prick. Baby on the way." He scoffs, trying to cover up the hurt feelings that are still nagging at him, deep down inside of him. Even now, after all these years. "Bitch."

He fishes for some free peanuts in the little bowl that's on the counter and pops them into his mouth one after the other. Meanwhile, the handsome bartender pours some more whiskey into his empty glass. Richard waits for him to be gone again before he continues with the conversation.

"You're lucky you're just an android; you don't have to put up with this bullshit. Relationships and stuff," he says to his MX as he's still chewing on the peanuts. The MX doesn't respond, and this time – thanks to the alcohol – Richard boxes its shoulder to get a reaction out of it. "Hey, you!" he says a little louder, "I'm talking to you."

The MX tilts its head a little, but the expression on its face doesn't change at all. It's just looking at Richard with its eerie blue eyes, unblinking. "I am listening, Detective Paul."

"Oh yeah?"

"Affirmative." The MX seems to process some data before it continues, "Divorce rates in this country have increased to 69.37 percent in the past ten years. It is statistically proven that divorced men of your specific age enter a second marriage 77.64 percent of the time. You are very likely to remarry. Statistics suggest that you will wed your potential future second spouse within two to seven years from the actual point of your divorce."

Richard snorts. "Over my dead body! But thanks for the cheer-up."

"You are welcome, Detective Paul."

"You know what? You need a name." It's out of Richard's mouth before he knows what he's saying, and even after he says it out loud, his clouded brain doesn't really grasp the idiocy of it.

"As you know, I have a unique serial number, sir."

"Naah, that's not the same!" Richard frowns as he thinks hard, and the tip of his tongue slowly runs along his lower lip, tasting the salty flavour from the peanuts that still clings there. What would be a good name for his MX? Well, anything is better than _'Hey you.'_

"How about Alex?" he suggests after another moment of mulling over possible names in his head and taking another sip of whiskey. This is great stuff; he almost doesn't feel the pain of his wound anymore.

"Again, I strongly advise you to refrain from drinking any more alcoholic beverages, sir."

"That's no answer to my question." Richard smacks the almost empty glass back on the counter. "So what d'you think, huh? Alex is a good name, isn't it? It's unisex." He grins an almost dirty grin. Technically, the MX is neither male nor female. Even though the facial features are masculine, the android is just a genderless 'it'. A machine. To Richard, a unisex name just feels like the most suitable option. Also, 'Alex' sounds a little similar to 'MX', so it's not _that_ big of a stretch, right?

"Alex," the MX repeats in its unemotional voice.

"Yeah." Richard nods. "You like it?"

"I am not programmed to have likings." A little pause and red lighting flashing at the MX's temple. "But if you consider it adequate, you can call me Alex. I will update my database accordingly."

"You do that." Ignoring the MX's warnings yet again, Richard downs the rest of his remaining whiskey.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes, a couple more drinks and some more one-sided conversation about the unfairness of life later, Richard waves for the check.

"Let's drive home." He gives his combat android the signal to finally leave the bar. His tongue feels heavy and the words don't make their way out of his mouth so easily anymore. He's having a tough time thinking clearly at all. When he slips from the stool and his feet hit the floor, he trips and almost falls down. 'Alex' catches him by the uninjured arm just in time.

"You are in no condition to operate a motor vehicle, sir. I suggest to let me drive again."

"No shit," Richard snaps, a little more aggressively than he intended. But who cares? It's not like he needs to be overly considerate about the MX. It's not even capable of feeling offended at all.

Together they leave the bar. As soon as they're outside, the fresh air hits Richard like a truck and he feels horribly dizzy in an instant. Following his mere instincts and not so much making conscious decisions anymore at this point, he reaches out for his MX with one hand to somehow keep himself anchored and upright on the spinning floor. Richard is pretty hammered by now, but he hasn't totally lost his sanity. He knows he can't drive anymore. Hell, he can't even _walk straight_ anymore without a little support. He feels like shit and he's just so frustrated and angry, the alcohol bringing all his negative emotions up to the surface. He's angry with all women who ever rejected him. Angry with the bosses of this world who always favor irresponsible and trigger-happy dickheads, while he works his ass off for nothing, even to the point that it destroys his marriage. He's angry with the men who just get it all without making real efforts. And above all, he's angry with himself because he never was one of those men and never will be.

In the car he falls asleep for a moment, feeling exhausted but also safe in the hands of the MX-43 that is behind the wheel. It's only when the car stops that he wakes up again and recognizes the skyscraper his apartment is situated in. A tiny and weird warmth settles somewhere in his belly when he realizes that his MX... _Alex_... brought him home instead of driving to the precinct. The android gets him out of the police car, helps him to the building and into the elevator, and even unlocks the door to his apartment because he's just too drunk to do it himself. This is pretty nice of the MX, Richard thinks. It's probably only acting like this based on logical calculations; this has nothing to do with kindliness, but the only coherent thought that manages to survive somewhere in Richard's brain is the sudden realization that this was the first birthday evening in years that he didn't spend all on his own. Even though it's just his MX and not really a person who was and still is with him, it feels much better than going home alone and facing the empty and depressingly silent apartment.

"Do you need anything, sir?" Alex asks with an ever-neutral voice, more or less carefully propping its human partner up against the wall of his apartment's entrance hall.

Richard licks his lips, his chaotic thoughts racing and the world spinning around him. He doesn't want to be alone, that's everything he knows right now.

"Yeah," he rasps out, awkwardly wriggling out of his ruined coat as he leans against the wall for support, "Close the door..."

The MX obeys.

* * *

It happens so fast, like an unstoppable avalanche finally breaking free. One moment the MX is shutting the door, even activating the safety lock and alarm system by merely laying two fingers on the hightech device to get the necessary access; the next moment, Richard is closer to his partner than he ever was, effectively leaning against the impressive, armored figure. He's got a good excuse - he's swaying without supporting himself, and there couldn't be a better support than his reliable MX. The combat android runs another scan, quickly calculating the likelihood of Richard's sense of balance failing him completely, and cautiously wraps a strong arm around the drunk human, almost in a protective manner.

"You should lie down, sir."

"Okay..." Richard's hands are moving on their own accord now, finding their way to the MX's narrow hips and then sliding up its sides without hesitation. Just a second later he's hooking his fingers in some straps of the android's combat gear, pulling it with him along the corridor. The MX doesn't resist, but it doesn't really take action either. Maybe it's busy analyzing the situation, trying to figure out what is happening. Richard couldn't be less bothered; he's just flooded with this unexpected and unbelievably soothing sensation of physical closeness and he's so desperate for _more_. He doesn't care that this is his professional partner; he doesn't care that this isn't even a human being. These concerns are out of the window and probably won't return before he'll sober up again the next morning.

"Ah, shit, why are you so fucking _tall_?" He's literally at eye level with the MX's chest, which is a bit frustrating; but this can be modified easily by getting into a horizontal position together. Reaching the dark bedroom, he tries to maneuver his MX to his bed by pushing it in front of him, at the same time unclasping the first few buckles of the android's black practical gear. It takes several attempts to fumble them open because Richard's in such a clumsy state right now.

"It is proven that a tall stature has advantageous..."

"Shh shh shh. Enough with the smart talk."

The MX promptly falls silent on the detective's untypically soft-spoken command and even holds still when one of his partner's hands twists demandingly in the rough fabric until it reaches the synthetic skin that lies hidden underneath the layers. A ragged breath escapes Richard as his fingers slide along the naked torso of the android, the bare skin feeling unnaturally smooth and surprisingly warm under his sensitive fingertips. It takes just this single intimate touch to make him terribly horny and also very hard. It's ridiculous but he can't help it.

With drunken haste, Richard peels off his shoulder holster and drops it to the floor. Again, he tries to push the MX down on his bed, but it's not exactly compliant - or it simply doesn't understand what he wants from it. It feels like trying to tip over an unyielding brick wall. Eventually, the awkward grappling turns to more or less rhythmic movements as he ends up rubbing himself against the MX's solid body, both of them still standing up and fully clothed. With unswerving loyalty, the android keeps supporting its human partner, its arm steadily wrapped around him and not letting go. Richard's mind knows this isn't a _real_ embrace, but his body yearns for the physical contact the MX is providing right now. He presses against it with even more insistence, pushing his right leg between the much longer legs of the tall android so that he's automatically half-straddling its thigh. He can feel the perfect and artificial leg muscles even through both of their pants.

God, he'd give anything to make those damn pants just disappear into thin air, so he could actually feel the MX's flawless skin on his painfully hard cock that is trapped in his own trousers, the tip already slick and revealing his out-of-control arousal. But getting rid of the clothes just seems like an utterly hopeless endeavor when he can't even hold himself up properly without help. So he just grinds against the robot intuitively, urged on by the fact that it isn't pushing him away. Maybe it's curious - MX units have the drive to learn and enhance within the technical boundaries of their A.I., after all - or maybe it's just programmed to never fight its superior. Richard doesn't know. And right now, he doesn't really care at all, to be honest. He's too busy focussing on this amazing heat that's building inside of him, sparked by the friction the robot thigh grants his crotch. He doesn't go at it slowly or gently - doesn't _need_ to - and both the strong pressure and hard rubbing make up for the lack of skin contact or refined technique. In his current condition, Richard isn't really open to finesse anyway.

If the MX says anything, it is completely lost to him at this point. The hot waves of need and pleasure surge up with such force inside of him, just overwhelming him and short-circuiting the flimsy part of his brain that had been still functioning a minute ago. It's so undignified, the way he's rutting against his combat android and clinging to it in a death grip by now, but it feels damn good and the intensity of his desire and his insane hard-on just keep him going. He doesn't last long, though. It's been a while since the last time he hooked up with somebody, and his currently poor overall condition only adds to the drastic decrease in stamina. Richard comes with a gasp, eyes shut tight and his face pressed to the MX's chest, a clasp of its padded bulletproof vest uncomfortably digging into his cheek but he doesn't even notice. All tension rushes out of his body as white stars explode before his closed eyes, and he still holds on to his partner, breathing heavily and struggling to keep on his legs that threaten to give in.

_Well, fuck._

That's his very last conscious thought before Alex simply puts him on his bed as if he was nothing but a feather-weight paper doll. Richard falls asleep the second his delightfully empty head hits the pillow.


	4. Human flaw, I guess

Richard sleeps as if somebody knocked him unconscious. It's the fatigue of a long day and working overtime, combined with the physical pain, that tire him out. Getting plastered on top of that definitely has taken its toll too, and forcing a quick and much-needed orgasm from his exhausted body really drained the last ounce of energy from him. The only reason he's awake again so soon has to do with a very basic need relating to all the whiskey he downed at the bar. He really needs to drag himself to the bathroom somehow.

When he blinks one of his eyes half-open, the room is still as dark as it had been when he had fallen asleep. His head feels like exploding, but his right arm is the worst, the injury throbbing and stinging. With a grunt, he rolls onto his left side to relieve any pressure from the injured area, and catches the unexpected sight of a tall silhouette looming at the foot of his bed like a threatening shadow.

All of Richard's inner alarm bells go off as he nearly jumps out of his skin, darting out of his bed like a bat out of hell. His left leg catches in the crumpled blanket twisted around his calf and ankle, making him lose balance and accidentally knock over the bedside lamp. It falls to the floor, but the shattering sound is drowned out by his own yelling.

"Fuck!" he blurts out as he gropes for the gun he keeps hidden in the nightstand, his deep voice raspy from sleep. Even before he gets a good hold of the weapon, his eyes have started adapting to the darkness and the creepy, unmoving silhouette turns out to be his MX. "What the _hell_...?!"

He curses a few more times in a wild mixture of English and Spanish, almost shouting at the android for standing around in his apartment, _in his bedroom watching him sleep for Christ's sake_. But he knows very well that it's his own fault his MX is here. It just takes a moment for the memories to seep in again.

"Can't you at least sit down?! Do you have to stand there and stare at me like a fucking psychopath?!" Richard huffs, pointing at the chair near his large closet, which accommodates a plethora of button-down shirts, matching ties, and suits in subtle colours. In his chest, his heart hammers so fast that the MX would have certainly picked up on its partner's unusual vitals.

"I - "

"Shut it! That was a rhetorical question!" He slumps back on the bed, perching on the edge of the mattress. As he kicks his foot free from the damn blanket that had slipped to the ground, he realizes that somebody must have taken off his shoes for him. His leather belt and tie are also missing; he's still in his shirt and trousers from yesterday though, and the first two buttons at the neckline are open. Nibbling at his lower lip, Richard tosses the gun next to him on the bed and then shifts his gaze back to his MX. It's actually sitting on the chair now, and rather awkwardly so, silently observing him from across the room. Richard almost has to smile.

_Almost. _

"What time is it?" he asks into the dark, not bothering to pick up the lamp from the floor to see if it's still working.

"It is now 3:54 a.m.," the android updates him.

"What does your charge say?"

"My charge is currently at 58.75 percent, sir."

"Okay..." Trying to grasp a clear thought, Richard rubs his face with both hands, pressing his fingertips to his closed eyelids for a couple of seconds. He's so damn tired. "Okay," he repeats after a while, dropping his hands, "We're getting you to the station so you can recharge for a few hours. I'll just take a quick shower and get dressed." He pushes himself up from the bed, wishing he could just crawl back into it, curl up under the warm blanket and go to sleep again. But things are bad enough as they are; he doesn't want to make them even worse by keeping the MX around his private home for the whole night, failing to deliver it to the station at all and having to explain himself when it runs on low charge for the upcoming working day.

As he makes for the door, he feels the attentive gaze of his android following him through the bedroom. His hand resting on the handle, he looks back to the black-clad MX that is nearly swallowed up by the shadows. Only its white face is visible, glowing in the dim ambience of the pre-dawn light. It looks even more artificial than in daylight. "You, uhm, you wait here."

"Yes, Detective."

* * *

In the shower, the inevitable memories of last night make Richard want to slap himself.

_Way to go, you idiot_, he rails at himself as cool water pours down on him, washing off yesterday's filth. _You fucked up real good._

This isn't just the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to him; it's an absolute disaster. This could actually cost him his job if anyone finds out. Richard doubts they'd tolerate cops on the force who feel up their MXs and can't even keep it in their pants during night shift.

Well, literally speaking, he _did_ keep his dick in his pants, but that doesn't make it any better really. The only good thing about it is that it spares him the horrible humiliation of having to wash dried white stains from the MX's gear before he returns it to the station.

He feels a little better after the shower, but not much. Still beat, he dries himself off, not being overly careful with the waterproof bandage on his arm. He needs to have the bandage changed later today anyway. Then he slips into a navy-blue bathrobe and swallows a hangover pill as well as one of the strong painkillers the paramedic handed him yesterday, downing two glasses of tap water along with it. When he walks out of the bathroom he leaves his dirty clothes scattered on the tiled floor because he doesn't want to waste more time than necessary. Usually he's a tidy person, but he can always clean up later.

Back in the bedroom he switches on the ceiling lights, the sudden glare making him squint. The MX still sits on the chair and turns its expressionless face towards Richard as he crosses the room to get to his closet. He can sense that it's waiting for any kind of instruction, but he doesn't say a word. Ignoring the android, he slides the opal glass doors open and picks out an off-white shirt and dark gray trousers, everything neatly ironed. From a chest of drawers, he gets fresh underwear and socks.

"Why don't you go make some coffee? The kitchen is to the left, second door," he finally addresses his MX without looking at it, just to get it out of the bedroom. His stomach actually churns when he simply thinks of coffee right now, but he really doesn't want to change in front of the android's constantly monitoring eyes.

_Don't be ridiculous,_ a little voice in his head teases him, _It's just a few hours ago that you rubbed your dick all over the MX's thigh to get yourself off. It's too late to pretend you have high morals._

This is so pathetic. But he feels relieved when the MX rises to its feet and marches out of the room. As he gets dressed, he can hear his robot partner rummage in the kitchen and then the soft hum of the coffee machine. He didn't even tell it where to find a cup and the coffee beans and everything, but this information seems to be unneeded anyway. The MX probably just scanned all of the cabinets. Wrapping a lightly patterned tie around his neck, he soon follows the android into the kitchen.

The scent of fresh coffee is so strong that he almost feels queasy, but he wills himself to ignore it. Hoping the caffeine will kick in and help him keep his eyelids open, he takes a sip when the MX places the cup in front of him on the clean kitchen counter. The coffee is black and sweet with sugar, exactly how he prefers it.

"Thanks," Richard says to his MX to break the ice. The truth is, he doesn't know how or where to start with what he needs to discuss before they get to the precinct. After putting down the cup, he clears his throat. "Uhm, listen, about last night..." He struggles for words and nervously starts to tie his tie. The MX isn't any help as it just stares at him, waiting for him to continue instead of meeting him halfway in this more than awkward conversation. The damn tin man just doesn't _get_ it. But what was Richard expecting? Suppressing a sigh of frustration, he decides to approach the delicate topic from a different angle.

"Did you already make your routine memory upload to the central server?"

"Yes, sir. I transferred all relevant data at 3:00 a.m. precisely."

_Shit._

Richard frowns, shoving his left hand in his trouser pocket. "What do you mean, the _relevant_ data?"

"All MXs have dynamic subroutines that are intended to distinguish between relevant and irrelevant data. We are not supposed to upload the latter to the collective servers to avoid clogging."

"Okay, okay, what about your recordings that were created after the shootout at the shop last night?" Growing somewhat impatient, Richard raises both his eyebrows, emphasizing the importance of the question. "You know, at the bar..." _And after that._

"All reports and recordings from the off-duty period, starting from 0:17 a.m. on, have been classified insignificant and have not been uploaded to the central server."

Richard tries to keep a straight face and not let his relief show. He never would have thought he could actually be happy to hear somebody tag his dick 'irrelevant', but well, there's a first time for everything.

"All right," he says as untroubled as he can manage and empties the cup of coffee with a few big gulps. "Let's go and get you some juice."

* * *

He lets the MX drive to the precinct so he can take another small nap on the way, but it's only a very light sleep and he's awake again when the android stops the car at the parking lot in front of the huge police building. Grasping his partner by its upper arm, Richard stops it from getting out of the car. The MX turns its head and looks at him with those lifeless blue eyes, waiting.

"Listen, I apologize for... uh... for shouting at you and all."

_Yeah, especially the 'and all' part of it._ He wonders if the MX actually understands what he means, but he just can't bring himself to go into detail.

"I didn't know what I was doing." He shrugs, biting his lips for a second. "Human flaw, I guess. I'm sorry, okay?"

He watches the red lights dancing across his MX's cheek as it replies very matter-of-factly: "No harm was detected, sir."

Richard assumes this is robot-talk for 'Don't worry, it's ok.' He only nods and lets go of the android's arm so they can get out of the car. Casting a quick glance at his wristwatch, he walks his MX over to the storage facility and sends it off into the elevator for the basement with a short "I'll pick you up in about three hours."

Contemplating if he should drive back home for the remaining time until his next shift starts again, he comes to the conclusion that it wouldn't really pay off, considering the route will be jammed with heavy traffic pretty soon. So he just gets back in the car, adjusts the back rest to a more comfortable position and dozes off for another while.

* * *

"Hey, Paul!"

A rap to the side window makes him jerk awake. The first thing he sees is the face of John Kennex, peeking into the car with his usual shit-eating grin. What a sight to wake up to.

"Forgot to pay your rent or what?!" Kennex jokes. Richard just stares at him through the window.

"Come on, John." That's Dorian's soft voice, barely audible inside of the car, even though the DRN is standing just a foot behind his idiotic partner. "We are already late for shift."

Together they leave, crossing the parking lot in perfectly synchronized pacing. Richard sits up and looks at his watch. It's 8:12. Damn.

Quickly, he gets out of the car and goes to pick up his own android.

* * *

When they arrive at the office a little later, Richard has the feeling that everyone is staring at him. Literally everyone. It makes him uncomfortable, but he doesn't ask if something is wrong. Pretending that everything is okay, he gets out of his leather jacket - his favourite coat is a case for the trash can, thanks to the trigger-happy perp from yesterday - and takes a seat at his desk. Surprisingly enough, his assigned MX doesn't sit down on its place by his desk's side but stands right next to his swivel chair, looking down at him.

"Can I get you something?" it asks. Richard frowns, confused.

"What?"

"It appears you haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon. Do you want me to get you a doughnut, Detective?"

"Uhm... why not... thanks."

As soon as the MX is gone, Richard looks around the bullpen as discreetly as possible to check if anyone has been paying immoderate attention to them. He can't remember the last time he felt this paranoid. It's pretty unnerving. And it gets worse when just two minutes later, Maldonado enters the scene and shoots Richard a really stern look from the upper aisle.

"Paul. You have a minute?" she asks, nodding towards her office, but it isn't a question so much as an order.

Feeling himself break out in cold sweat, Richard nods and rises from his chair. He struggles to keep a perfect pokerface as he follows Maldonado to her office.

"Captain?"

"Take a seat." Maldonado sits down at her desk and waits for the detective to sit across from her. She fixes Richard with a long and reproachful look that makes him swallow, even though his mouth is dry as dust. "What are you doing here?" she finally asks, sounding concerned and slightly annoyed.

"I'm..." His voice trails off and he shakes his head a bit, not quite following.

"You got shot last night, Paul. You should stay at home for a few days."

_Oh. That._

"That won't be necessary, Captain. It's just a scratch. I'm fit for duty."

Maldonado leans back in her chair, barely suppressing a sigh. "No, you're not." Her voice takes on a softer tone when she continues, "No offense, Richard, but you look terrible."

The corners of his mouth sink a bit, but he doesn't object. She has a point, after all.

"I appreciate your reliability, but I can't have you out in the field with a bullet wound and tired out like that. Go see the doctor and have them sign you off for a couple days until you feel better."

"Yes, Captain. Thank you." He doesn't really know what else to say. He's not exactly thrilled about having to stay at home, but at least he can catch up on lost sleep. There's nothing else to add, so he gets up to leave the office when Maldonado nods her consent.

"Paul?" Her voice makes him stop, and he turns to face her again. "Good job with the armed robbery yesterday."

Maldonado gives him a tiny smile of encouragement and he returns it with a tired, lopsided smile of his own before heading out of the door.

* * *

Richard stays at home for the rest of the week to recover. He even gets a few virtual 'get well soon' messages from guys at the precinct. One is from Stahl. He doesn't answer it though. He can say thanks when he meets her at work on Monday.

Days go by and eventually he stops thinking about the incident with his MX. It helps that he's currently not around the android at all. The distance makes it easier to get his mind off it and focus on different things. Also, he doesn't receive any calls or notifications on the matter, thank God. If the powers that be had any suspicions or evidence of his misconduct, they surely would have summoned him by now, maybe even served him notice. But nothing like that happens. Seems like he really got away with it.

Monday comes, and when Richard picks up his MX, everything feels normal. As if nothing ever happened at all. He's happy to be back at work, even though he's not exactly over the moon about having to deal with Kennex again. But it's not like they have to spend the whole day together. Things are getting busy and not even an hour into their shift, they are dispatched to different locations with their respective android partners.

Richard's case turns out to be a pretty bad one of domestic abuse. Neighbours dialed 911 because of all the noise and screaming from inside the house. The MX has to kick in the front door and not a second too early; apparently, they came just in time to prevent the worst. The woman is already down on the ground, unconscious. The offender doesn't resist when Richard pushes him to the ground to cuff his hands, ordering his MX to call an ambulance at the same time. Then he cares for the battered woman, making sure she's breathing normally and not bleeding excessively from any severe wounds. Meanwhile, his MX clears the other rooms, quickly moving through each of them with a raised weapon.

Richard gawks when it returns to the living room carrying a crying little girl in the crook of its arm.

"I found this child in a closet," the MX informs him.

"Yeah, good, give her to me," Richard demands, holding his arms in front of him so the android can hand over the girl. "You check on the woman too, and keep an eye on him." He nods to the offender who's still lying on the floor, face down. "We'll get him in the back of the car as soon as the ambulance is here."

"Yes, sir." The android immediately starts to scan the victim for damage that isn't visible on the surface, like internal bleeding, bone fractures and concussion, in order to report the findings to the approaching medics.

Knowing that he can leave it to his MX from here, Richard grabs a blanket from the shabby couch and carries the scared girl to the back porch that leads to the little garden behind the house. No child should ever have to see their parents hurt each other, let alone their father being arrested by the police. So he just sits down on the bench, with the girl on his lap, and wraps the blanket around her so she won't freeze.

"Hey, princess," he says and wipes a bit of snot from her tiny nose, "What's your name?"

"Lily," she answers innocently, followed by a hiccup.

"Really?" He smiles at her. "That's a very pretty name. Lily... did anybody hurt you?"

"I want my mommy..." she whines, not answering his question. But she looks physically unharmed. Just really scared.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. You can see her later, I promise. Are you cold?" He tries to distract her a bit, pulling the blanket tighter around her small frame.

She shakes her head, looking up at him with those large, teary eyes and flushed chubby cheeks. "Can I see Alex, too?" she asks, slowly calming down.

"Who's that? Your daddy?" Richard looks down to her, brushing a wayward strand of hair out of her wet face.

"Noooo!" she exclaims, as if he was stupid for not knowing. "Alex is funny. He can make colors on his face."

Suddenly it dawns on Richard, and for a second he doesn't even know what to say. When he has gathered himself again, he asks Lily: "How do you know his name is Alex? Did he tell you?" Of course he doesn't bother explaining to her that 'Alex' isn't really a He but an It. She's just a little kid.

She nods wearily and leans against Richard's chest. "I asked him. Can I see him again?"

Richard hears the sirens of the arriving ambulance and the screech of tyres outside the house, and a moment later the sound of footsteps pounding through the hall. "You can see Alex in a minute, princess."

Then he falls silent, musing about this unexpected development of things. Turns out he was wrong when he thought they could go on as usual and pretend that nothing had ever happened. Great.


	5. Is this not a type of bond?

Richard has always considered himself a man who doesn't take his promises lightly, which is why he makes sure that Lily gets to see his MX again. With her unconscious mom in the back of the ambulance and her abusive father locked securely in the back of the police car, he lifts the child, still wrapped up in the blanket, into the crook of his partner's arm again.

"Don't drop her," Richard tells his MX, even though he knows that the android is very unlikely to ever let a child – or any human being it might be carrying – fall to the ground. It would probably take a severe malfunction for that to happen.

Leaving the little girl with the synthetic, Richard quietly talks to a friendly woman from social services – Mrs. Mitra – who has arrived in the meantime. As she takes a few notes on her pad, Richard's gaze wanders off to his partner, who is holding the child with such a stern expression it seems like the most serious task that has ever been assigned to it. Lily's tiny fist clings to the MX's black vest, her head resting on its broad shoulder. Exhausted from all the agitation and crying, she apparently has fallen asleep snuggled up to the combat android's chest. A little smile tugs at the right corner of Richard's mouth as he takes in this rare sight.

When Mrs. Mitra wakes Lily a few minutes later to take her to the car, the girl is very whiny and fidgety. Turns out she doesn't want to let go of her newfound friend; her little fingers clutch the MX's gear with surprising strength. They attempt to detach her from the android as gently as possible, but that only makes her scream and cry harder. Richard is staggered that the little child could grow so attached to the MX in such a short amount of time and isn't even intimidated one bit by its appearance. Quite the contrary, it seems.

"I think she feels safer with my android," he says to the woman, realizing Lily's motive for wanting to be with the MX so desperately. They share a quick look and he sees a glimmer of doubt in the lady's amber eyes. "It found her locked up in the closet," Richard explains.

In the end, Richard suggests that the MX could ride with them in the car to calm the scared child and accompany them to the hospital. In the meantime, Richard would take care of the arrested man and deliver him to the holding cells to await trial.

"Really?" Mrs. Mitra asks, eyeing the tall android warily.

"Yeah, don't worry. The MX won't cause problems. And you can always give me a call, all right?" He puts down his mobile number on her electronic pad. "I'll pick up my partner later when I'm done here."

"Detective," the android jumps into the conversation, still holding the little girl securely to its chest, "I have to remind you of the protocol. You are not allowed to transport a dangerous suspect on your own. As your partnered MX, it is my duty to -"

"I know, I know," Richard interrupts, flashing a quick, apologetic smile at Mrs. Mitra before facing his MX again. "He's not really dangerous, okay? He doesn't even have a weapon. I can deal with him."

"But sir -"

"AND," Richard cuts off his MX again, hoping that his next words will do the trick, "it is very important to get this little girl to the hospital where her mother will be treated. You will escort her and we'll meet up later." He pauses, before adding "Be nice to her."

The MX processes some data, then nods. "Copy that."

* * *

Driving the perp to the department and putting him in the cubes until further investigations turns out to be a piece of cake. Nothing unexpected happens, and Richard decides that he's got enough time to get a fresh coffee before he fetches his MX. On his way to the hospital, he stops at his favourite café a few blocks from the precinct. Along with a large coffee he gets one of those amazing coconut rolls with icing that he loves so much, even though he isn't really hungry. He takes everything with him, and by the time he pulls up in the hospital parking lot, it's all gone.

At the front desk, the clerk politely tells him that his partner is at the nursery on the third floor, station D-2. When Richard arrives he is greeted by another hospital employee. "Hello, can I help you?" she asks with a smile.

"Hi, yes. I'm Detective Paul," he says, flashing his badge. "I'm here to pick up my MX partner. It came in earlier with Mrs. Mitra from social services and a little girl, Lily Matthews, after her mother was hospitalized."

"He is in the playroom with the kids," she says, still smiling. "Please follow me."

Richard doesn't know what exactly he was expecting to see, but it's definitely not this. In a room with about twenty romping children of different ages, his MX sits on the floor and holds perfectly still as Lily busily uses the android as her personal canvas. Painting with her fingers, she has completely covered its face, most of the helmet and also parts of the combat gear with tiny handprints in a riot of bright, conflicting colours.

The woman next to him gasps. "Lily!"

"This is just great," Richard mumbles.

"I'm so sorry... I left them alone for only five minutes."

"Five minutes, huh? This little girl is damn productive."

The lady gives him a look for swearing in the nursery, but Richard ignores it. Instead he asks: "Do you have a free room where I can clean up my android? I can't go back on the street with a walking paintbox."

"Of course. There's currently a free room down the corridor - room 326. Again, I'm really sorry for the inconvenience, Detective."

"It's okay," Richard says and steps towards his MX and Lily. She's covered in even more paint than the android, so Richard takes care not to get too close to her.

"Hey sweetie," he says, his voice tinged with a warmer tone, "Alex has to go now because I need his help. Do you want to say goodbye to him?"

Richard's not gonna lie - it's quite heartwarming to see the little girl hug the MX with genuine affection. The MX's face remains serious, but it embraces Lily with one arm, its huge, gloved hand carefully patting her tiny back, even though the motion is a bit stiff. When it lets go and rises to its feet, Richard waves at Lily and says, "You take care, princess, all right?" He gives her one last smile when she waves back with her little hand covered in paint.

* * *

Richard's smile is gone the second he leaves the nursery with his MX by his side. He stomps down the corridor until they reach room 326.

"Get in there!" he snarls at his android and slams the door shut once they're both in the room.

"Look at this mess!" He gestures up and down the android's tall body, making it glance down its own paint-smeared chest. "Why did you let that happen?! Are your sanity routines malfunctioning or something?!"

"You said I should 'be nice' to the child, sir."

"Oh yeah? And since when does that include mandatory paint fights?!" He points at the nearby examination table. "Sit your ass down and take off your helmet!"

Pressing his lips together in frustration, Richard goes to find washcloths in the storage cabinets and moistens one of them at the sink. When he turns to his MX again, it's sitting on the examination table, its helmet already placed next to its thigh. Reaching up to the MX's head, Richard peels back the tight-fitting, elastic hood and reveals short-cropped, flaxen hair that feels very soft when his thumb unintentionally brushes the silky strands. It's actually the first time Richard has seen his MX without any headgear, but he doesn't really get the whole picture until he's cleaned off most of the sticky paint that covers the android's face. The more paint that comes off, the more often Richard catches himself staring at his partner's face somewhat inappropriately, his gaze lingering at the soft blond hair or the baby blue eyes or the pale, pink lips for a split second too long. Turns out his android is ridiculously pretty. He never really noticed this before.

"Okay," Richard says when he's done wiping the MX's face. "Take off the vest and clean it. I'll clean your damn helmet."

He wets another cloth and hands it to the android. Then he picks up the black helmet, takes it to the sink and angrily scrubs the paint off. Drying and polishing the helmet with a few disposable paper towels, he turns to face the MX and is greeted by a sight that almost makes him drop the headgear. The android's upper half is totally naked as it leans over the examination table where its vest and shirt are spread out. Staring at the nude broad back of his partner, he can actually see the muscles move underneath the flawless synthetic skin as the android tends to its discarded clothes.

Not that he _wants_ to see that.

His MX isn't exactly ugly though...

_Get a grip!_ He tries to talk some sense into himself and puts down the polished helmet at the corner of the examination table.

"Here, let's swap these." Richard gives his MX the cleaned washcloth and holds out his hand so it can put the dirty one in his open palm. When the android turns towards him, he just can't stop his eyes from travelling down that impressive chest and stomach. _Holy shit._ It looks like it's carved from marble. He wonders if it's really necessary to design these combat robots to look like calendar boys.

"Detective Paul. Is something wrong?"

Startled, Richard realizes that he has been staring for such a long time that even the android has noticed. _Oh crap._

"Uh, no... Nothing's wrong. Except for my android being stupid today," he grumbles, fumbling with the cloth in his fingers.

The MX tilts its head a bit. "Your heart rate increased significantly throughout the past seven minutes. I also read increased perspiration, as well as dilated pupils and a peculiar change in your breathing pattern. These are first physiological signs of sexual arousal."

"Bullshit! I'm not sweating at all," Richard lies, even though he knows it makes no sense to deny it. The MX can read his body data like an open book.

"I pick up noticeable perspiration in several areas of your body, Detective." The tall android takes one step towards Richard. "Do you feel the need to ejaculate?"

"Excuse me?!" Richard croaks, backing off one step.

"It seemed to be the most convenient option when we were at your apartment last week and you were in a similar state. I could assist you again."

Richard needs several seconds to collect himself. He opens his mouth and then closes it again without having said anything.

"Do you approve, sir?"

"What? No, I'm _fucking not_ approving! Are you crazy?!"

Red lights flash at the MX's cheek and an inquiring expression appears on its young, handsome features. "You approved when I helped you at your apartment. Is that because we were off-duty?"

"You weren't even that much help, for God's sake!" Richard rants. "You just... _stood there!_ It was _nothing!_ Don't act as if we -" _fucked_, that's the word he's thinking of right now, but it doesn't cross his lips.

The blond MX is unimpressed by his energetic outburst, of course. "If you are in need of an alternative method, please clarify. However, I have to remind you that due to my anatomical design, I am not capable of every sexual procedure as exercised by humans."

Richard doesn't know if he should laugh or cry - or both. He can't believe this conversation is actually happening. It's just embarrassing and he gets pretty angry now, feeling more and more cornered by his persistent and annoyingly blunt MX.

"The only thing I'm in need of is an MX that doesn't look like a fucking piece of abstract art! Can we _please_ just make you look presentable again, and not discuss the absurd possibility of you giving me head in our off-duty time, _thank you!_" Clearly, Richard isn't amused.

"Why should I give you a head?" the MX asks with such unbelievable ignorance that Richard closes his eyes and shakes his head. _Who the hell programmed these things?!_

"It's not about literally handing over heads, dumbass! Browse your colloquial dictionary, for fuck's sake..." Muttering under his breath, he sees the red lights blink at the android's temple as it searches its databanks for more information. It takes only 1.8 seconds for the MX to respond.

"As I said, Detective, my initial programming isn't intended for sexual activities, but I am designed to learn and improve. Also, it is my highest priority to guarantee your well-being. Would you in fact consider it beneficial to your overall condition if I performed oral sex on you?"

"What, no! No no no!" Richard feels heat creep up his neck toward his face. "That's not what I said! God..." Trying to hide the blush, he quickly turns away from his MX and leans over the sink, wringing out the washcloth aggressively. He watches the paint mingle with the water as it swirls in the basin before vanishing down the plug hole. Unfazed, the android still keeps talking, sharing its perception of the situation even though Richard doesn't want to hear any of it.

"It is logical that you don't consider me a fully worthy mating partner..."

"Jesus..."

"... because I am neither human, nor do I possess primary sexual characteristics like the DRN model. I understand that the lack of genitalia hampers sexual intercourse which is common practice among humans. However, we could - "

"Okay, enough!" Richard explodes as he turns to face his MX again, almost slapping it with the wet cloth to make it shut its mouth. "I don't want to hear about your nonexistant junk, and I certainly _don't_ want to have sex with you!"

"You already have, sir. And I picked up a quickly improving vitals curve from you at the time, suggesting that it made you feel better."

"That's not... that doesn't count!"

"Why?"

"Because I was drunk. And because we had our goddamn clothes on!"

"We can take them off the next time if you consider it appropri-"

"_Alex!_ Stop it now!"

The MX falls silent but keeps staring at Richard, who feels as if his blood pressure is about to go through the roof. Did his android seriously just try to convince him they should have proper sex with each other?! An MX-43 that's hitting on its human partner with a logic-ruled, matter-of-fact way of robotic flirting. This would be fucking hilarious if it wasn't so alarming and kind of creepy.

They just stare at each other in tense silence for a moment, until the ringtone of Richard's mobile goes off. A quick glance at the display reveals it's Kennex. Richard answers the call.

"What?!" he barks into the phone.

"Whoa whoa, it's me," John replies. "Did I catch you in a bad moment?" Richard can actually hear that John is grinning as he talks.

"What do you want, Kennex? I'm busy!"

"You remember the Perez case from two weeks ago? We have a new lead. We're going in for a surprise house search in ninety minutes sharp. Can you meet us at the location?"

"We'll be there. Just text me the address."

"Okay. See you later."

Richard stuffs his mobile back into his pocket. With the index finger of his free hand he points at his MX, almost poking its bare chest as he picks up where they had left off. "And I swear to God, if you transfer _anything_ of our 'personal' conversation to the central server tonight, I'm gonna rip out your processing core with my bare hands and personally throw it in the scrap press. Do you copy?"

"Affirmative, sir. I will not upload any of our conversations that relate to your personal matters."

"Good." Taking a deep breath, Richard looks his android over from its face all the way down its ridiculously chiseled torso and back to its face again. Just to make sure he didn't miss any paint, of course. The MX-43 looks neat and clean, like a unit fresh from the factory. "All right, let's get your clothes done so you can get dressed. Don't wanna be late for our little rendezvous with Kennex and the DRN."

* * *

On their way to the meet-up with John and Dorian, they don't talk in the car for what feels like an eternity. Richard even switches on the radio so it won't feel so awkward, which is a first. It never felt this awkward in the past when they sat together in silence, but that was before Richard used the android like some sort of masturbatory device and unknowingly activated its artifical curiosity with it. Things have changed now. After their weird conversation at the hospital he is more than aware of that. The silence is uncomfortable, but at least it helps Richard to calm down again. His temper is back in check when his MX finally starts to speak.

"Detective Paul?"

"What is it?"

"May I ask another personal question?"

Richard wants to scream. But he figures it's better to get this out of the way while they're alone in the car.

"Okay, shoot."

"Would you consider my offer if I was human?"

_Oh. Shit..._

Richard initiates an unnecessary overtaking maneuver to pass the car that's in front of them, just to buy some time. When he cuts back into the line, he says: "Well, you aren't human and there's no chance you'll ever be, so this question is irrelevant." He hopes the undeniable logic of his answer will put an end to this whole discussion because it beats the MX with its own weapons, so to speak. But the android isn't satisfied with it, apparently.

"Sir, I was just wondering if your sudden rejection is based on a fact I cannot change because it is related to the essence of my being, or if I made a mistake that can be rectified. The aim of all MXs is the optimization of our system's dynamic routines."

A little sigh escapes Richard. "Listen, you did nothing wrong." _If anyone made a mistake, it's me._ "It's just... you're synthetic and I'm human. This wouldn't work out."

"I am insufficient," the MX concludes matter-of-factly.

"No!" Richard quickly objects to his MX's comment, without really thinking about it. He knows that the MX can't feel hurt, but this whole mess that he got them into obviously triggered some sort of existential pondering in the android, making it analyze its kind in a completely new and unexpected way. Following its unemotional logic, it seemingly tries to adjust to its assigned human partner in a way that's simply unobtainable for an MX because this route never was intended by the creators. After all the yelling, Richard's conscience finally starts to nag at him; he just feels like he needs to straighten things out for the obviously confused android to get back on the right track again. God knows where this could end otherwise.

Revising his previous response, he elaborates, "I mean, you're not really designed for, uh, intimate relationships and such. You even said so yourself. And I don't just mean the physical aspects, you know. You're not programmed to bond at all. But that's not your fault, okay?"

"I am programmed to distinguish between people and acknowledge you as my partner. My parameters identify you as the specific individual I need to protect at all costs, making you my top priority human. Is this not a type of bond?"

Richard could almost feel flattered if this wasn't so fucking weird. How on Earth did five minutes of awkward drunken sex turn into philosophical discussions about a robot's capability to grasp the concept of human relationships? He suppresses the urge to stop the car, jump out and run for the hills.

"I guess it is," Richard concedes, "but that's something different. It's no _romantic_ bond, if you know what I mean." He feels the stare of his MX, but doesn't meet its eyes as his gaze is firmly fixed on the street.

"Explain, please."

"What's to explain?! _You don't have feelings!_" He's getting a bit impatient, but at least he's neither as shocked nor as angry as he was earlier in the hospital. "Yeah, maybe you care about people in your own way, since you're designed to protect them. But that's not enough for a deeper connection. Love, passion, desire... you MXs can't feel any of that. You don't even feel sympathy or the tiniest glimpse of simple affection, right? For you, it's all just math and logic. You know, when people get involved with each other it's not just about having technically adequate sex that you could download a manual for. Well, okay, sometimes that might be the case, but we're talking real bonds now. _Emotional_ bonds. Long-term relationships that last longer than just one or two nights."

"I have been your partner for one year, four months, three weeks and four days."

That's such an innocent response that Richard can't fight back a spontaneous smile that brings out his dimples.

"Yeah, I know. And you still haven't bought me flowers yet - you see the problem?" he jokes. Getting more serious again, he continues: "Look, I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but whatever you're suggesting... just won't be happening. Are we done with this subject now? Because we'll reach the target in about five minutes." Richard can't think of anything more disastrous than his MX pestering him with inappropriate and suggestive questions in front of Kennex and the DRN bot. He'd never hear the end of it.

"Yes, sir."

Soon, Richard pulls over and parks the car on the wide driveway of a huge house, right behind another police car. Probably John's.

"Don't start on this again when we're inside."

"No, sir."

* * *

The rest of the working day, Richard's MX keeps silent, thank God. It only reports to him with data relating to the current case. Kennex and Dorian do a pretty good job too, and Richard is actually a bit grateful for the distraction when he can talk to John after the house raid that proved successful - at least one ray of hope on this absolutely crazy day.

It's very late when they drive back to the precinct. Kennex wants to go for some noodles first because he's starving. Of course he takes his DRN with him. Richard drops off his MX at the storage facility for recharging before he gets to the office. When he arrives at the almost empty bullpen without his android in tow, Valerie slowly walks towards him with a grin on her pretty face.

"Hey, what's up? Still working?" he greets her. Valerie smiles even wider.

"Yep," she says so sweetly that he knows she's up to something. "And I've been watching over your flowers."

Richard frowns. "Come again?"

"There was a flower delivery for you about two hours ago." She points to his desk and Richard can't believe his eyes when he sees the enormous bunch of mixed flowers sitting on top of it. "I didn't know you found someone desperate enough to date you, Richard."

"Pfft, I'm not dating anyone." He walks over to his desk and takes a closer look at the flowers. They are lush with vibrant colours and look expensive. "No card," he says, more to himself than to Valerie. She follows him and leans against her own desk, set at a right angle to his.

"Oooh, a secret admirer? This is unexpected," she teases him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You already have a suspect in mind, Detective Paul?" Valerie clearly enjoys this a lot more than Richard.

"It's probably just a mistake," he tries to cover up that he indeed has a suspicion. He certainly can't tell Stahl that his MX is trying to court him and is surprisingly persistent with its propositions. "Mix-up in names or something. You know how many Richard Pauls there are in this city? It's a pretty common name."

"The one I know is already such a handful. I don't really need more of them."

"Ha-ha." Richard carefully pushes the big vase aside so it doesn't conceal his main monitor. "Or someone's playing pranks on me. Again. I have _no idea_ who it could be..."

"Come on, Richard. As if John would buy flowers this tasteful and expensive just to pull your leg." Valerie smiles at him again, amused.

"You never know."

"If you say so..." she chirps, still teasing him about the whole thing, and puts on her brown, snug leather jacket. "I'm gonna call it a day now. Don't forget your flowers when you go home, okay? They're really beautiful. I wish mistakes and pranks like that would happen to me, too." She winks at him and Richard knows she doesn't really buy his stories about the possible origin of the flower delivery, but whatever. For a second, he thinks about giving the flowers to Valerie. Because he'd throw them away anyway and it would be a shame if they went to waste, he could say. But she'll probably deny the offer, and he's not in the mood to put up with her polite rejection.

"Good night," he says instead, "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, you too. Don't work too long."

Then she's gone and Richard is alone. He leans back in his chair, staring broodingly at the flowers for a couple of minutes. There can only be one explanation for this, but it's hard to wrap his head around it. Or maybe it's just a huge coincidence.

_What a weird day._

Richard spends another 45 minutes writing his reports before getting ready to head home. He takes the flowers with him when he leaves the building, intending to stuff them in the next trash bin on the street.


	6. It wasn't too bad

Richard can't sleep. At all.

He tosses and turns for hours, sits up and flips his pillow over at least ten times, restlessly rolls himself from one position to another – left side, back, right side, stomach – but sleep won't come. When he casts another glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, it's 1:38 a.m. and he's still wide awake. Frustrated, he gets out of bed and paces through his silent apartment for some time. In the living room he stops and sits down on the couch, leaning against the back rest. The room is dark, but due to the faint light falling through the windows from the lit billboards and street lights outside, he can see just enough. It never really gets pitch-black in a big city, not even in the middle of the night.

Absorbed in thought, he stares at the flowers that he wanted to throw away earlier. Somehow, he ended up taking them home instead, putting them on the coffee table.

Richard doesn't even own a vase. By the end of his ruined marriage, most of them had shattered to a thousand pieces when his ex-wife had thrown them at him during one of their countless fights. Those she spared, she took with her when they finally divorced and split up the household. He didn't object at the time – he doesn't need stupid vases. Well, except for tonight. So he had to be creative and just put the flowers in some plain plastic bucket. It doesn't really matter, because the bouquet is so big and colourful that it distracts from the poor substitute for a proper vase anyway.

The same questions twirl around his head over and over again. _Are the flowers really from my MX? If they aren't, who sent them? If they are, how did the android even arrange it? Why did it do this? What will it do next? Will this ever stop? What if somebody gets suspicious and finds out about everything? What then?_

He needs answers, and he needs them now.

Getting up from the couch, he goes to change from his pajamas to a shirt, trousers and jacket (no tie), and leaves for the precinct.

* * *

It's quiet when Richard arrives at the android's facilities. There aren't even cops from the night shift swarming through the corridors at this time of the night, because they're all busy on the streets. It's not rush hour for picking up or dropping off MXs, which comes in handy. Richard isn't really keen on having to make excuses for being here and visiting his partner during off-duty hours. Thankfully, nobody is around to see him when he gets into the descending elevator.

In the basement, it takes Richard a while to find his MX. He searches for Alex in the charging rooms and has to go through row after row of 'sleeping' androids who basically all look the same, divided into the three different model types. It's annoying that he can only tell them apart by their serial numbers that are revealed in tiny digits on the displays of the charging booth's control panels. When he finally spots his partner's number, he pushes the button to activate the droid, getting it out of sleep mode early. Red lines and blinking patterns run across both sides of the MX's face as it opens its unnaturally blue eyes and analyzes the unusual circumstances. Stiffly, it steps out of the booth and stands in front of Richard, towering over him by roughly 11 inches.

"Detective Paul. Why did you wake me up? My charging cycle is incomplete and our shift is not about to start. Is there an emergency?"

"Damn right," Richard replies, his hands placed on his hips as he looks his MX up and down with a rather angry glare. "Let's go."

"Sir, I have to gear up and arm myself first."

"No, you don't. This will do." Richard gestures at the MX's current clothing – black combat pants; boots; a long-sleeved, elastic and very tight undershirt that says _MX-43_ in white letters across the chest; and the helmet. The latter looks a bit ridiculous in this situation and makes Richard wonder why the androids won't take off their headgear when they go into stasis, like they do with their gloves, thigh and hip holsters, the armor padding and bulletproof vest. But then again, his android offered to go down on him yesterday, and it doesn't really get much weirder than that.

Alex follows him to the elevator, out of the building and across the parking lot in obedient silence.

"Get in the car," Richard commands. He doesn't want to drive anywhere, but he really needs to talk things out once and for all. The car just happens to be the most private place they can retreat to at the precinct. He takes a seat behind the wheel and pulls the driver's door shut with an untypical gentle thud so it won't create much noise. Right next to him in the front passenger's seat, his MX just stares at him, unmoving and waiting for input.

Now that they are safe from potential listeners, Richard lets the cat out of the bag.

"Did you order a flower delivery for me yesterday?"

"Yes, sir."

_Fantastic._ He almost asks how exactly the MX did it, because quite obviously, it doesn't have any money. But on second thought, he skips the question. He assumes that Alex actually hacked into the computer systems of the florist and just placed the order, marking it as paid even though no real money had been transferred. Richard would like to know how Alex was even capable of making an unlawful decision like that and act against protocol, but he doesn't ask. He's just too scared that the MX will realize it's probably malfunctioning and will turn itself in for a thorough technical checkup and repairs. The last thing Richard needs is Rudy Lom tripping over some compromising recordings of a plastered Detective Paul trying to hump his combat bot.

"Why did you do that?" he asks instead.

"Because you said it would be adequate in regards to the duration of our relationship."

"I didn't say that."

"You made a complaint about me not having bought you flowers yet. I merely corrected my mistake."

"Okay," Richard accepts this explanation. "But that was just a joke. You do realize giving flowers to each other isn't really appropriate for our type of relationship, right? You send flowers to somebody you had a nice date with, but never to your professional partner at work. Don't do it again."

"I have to object, Detective. I researched information on the human custom of 'dating' and general courtship behaviour. In conclusion, I can confirm that you and I effectively went on a date."

Richard's brown eyes go wide. "_What_?!"

"You invited me to keep you company in your off-duty time. We stayed at a bar, which is a popular location for dates, as documented by official statistics. Even though I do not consume drinks, you bought me an alcoholic beverage, which is an established method to show attention and courtesy to one's dating partner. Also, when a date is classified successful by both parties, it is not uncommon to retreat to a private accommodation in order to pursue the mutual attraction by engaging in consensual sexual activities. Which we effectively did."

Baffled, Richard runs a hand over his shaven head. He tries to come up with a good argument that will prove his partner wrong, but it's not that easy. The MX has a point. Now he actually understands why Alex thinks it was a proper date and therefore, quite logically from an android's rational perspective, arranged for the flower delivery. The robot just isn't capable of differentiating between real romance and the meaningless slip that happened between them the other night. Limited by its base programming, it isn't receptive to the finer nuances in human relationships.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but it's not the way you think it is."

"I don't understand, sir."

"Yeah, that's the whole problem! You just _don't understand_. You don't understand human relationships, you don't understand emotions, you don't understand that people sometimes will have sex without actually wanting to romance each other. You don't even understand sex in itself."

"I am aiming at improving on the matter. During my research on these subjects, I applied the downloaded data to my database that is connected to the subprogram responsible for my interpersonal skills," the MX points out.

_This is getting out of hand._ Richard shuts his eyes and pinches the root of his nose to help himself keep calm. "Alex, _please._ You can't just feed your databanks with sex tips!"

"I am upgrading my databanks where they are lacking in content. Why is this wrong?"

"It's not exactly _wrong_." Richard looks at the android again, meeting its expressionless eyes. "But it's absolutely unnecessary. You're clogging your memory cards with dispensable data. I mean, you can't even make use of the information. You should delete those... downloads. You're not able to put them into practice. Not with the needed senses anyway."

"I don't understand. Please explain."

Richard groans in frustration. They are totally running in circles here. No matter what he says or explains to the MX, it's to no avail. The android hears the words and processes them, but it can't puzzle out the real issue, which is the absence of its emotions. Alex is just a machine and that alone is a huge problem, but how should the MX grasp the meaning of this if it's not really able to understand the whole difference in the first place? It doesn't really know what it means to be human or to have feelings. So as a consequence, it doesn't know what exactly it means _not_ to be human, either.

Maybe it's time for a 'Show, don't tell' approach. This might be an idiotic idea, but Richard doesn't know what else to try anymore. And he won't drive home before he makes Alex understand and accept that the only relationship that works for them is in fact the one that defines them as a professional team.

Without further ado, he grabs his MX by the scruff of its neck and pulls it closer, crashing his lips on the bot's mouth without warning. It's a hard and rough kiss, a bit aggressive even, but not completely without a hint of genuine sensuality. Determined to prove to the android that it won't be able to pull this off, no matter how many theoretical manuals it downloaded, he kisses his MX with full force. He can't even remember the last time he kissed somebody like this in a parked car. When the MX doesn't kiss back but just sits there for several seconds, impassively tolerating the human's uninhibited onslaught, Richard pulls back and smirks. _Ha! Gotcha._

"See," he says, basking in his victory, "I knew you wouldn't know what to do when - "

The rest of the sentence gets lost because Alex suddenly leans in, pressing their mouths together again. Richard wants to gasp in surprise, but it's smothered by the android's lips that actually start to move a bit now. Just a few heartbeats later, the MX already gets the hang of it and gently sucks on Richard's mouth, making his eyes flutter close from the unexpected delight. He lets himself get involved in this second kiss, nibbling on Alex's lower lip and eventually nudging it with the tip of his tongue. As soon as he feels the synthetic lips part in a welcoming way, his tongue slides in and meets its artificial counterpart. At the touch, a tiny shock of pleasure bolts through Richard's tense body.

The MX's tongue is as soft as a human's, but not exactly as moist. Also, the android's mouth tastes really different. More neutral. The whole of its smooth skin lacks the unique flavour and scent that each human possesses, which is a little weird, but the kiss feels great anyway. Before Richard even knows what he's doing, he intuitively deepens the kiss, his tongue moving slowly with the MX's and their lips not losing contact once. Surprisingly, the android does a pretty good job adapting to the increased passion, mimicking its human partner's kissing technique. The movements could be more flowing, but overall the kiss is exciting and long enough to send a serious rush of blood to Richard's nether regions. He feels an inevitable stir in his dick and quickly breaks away from the android's mouth with a barely suppressed gasp.

"The hell was that?!" With the back of his hand, he wipes his lips that still tingle very nicely. Alex stares at him intently, and from this very short distance it feels as if it could look right through Richard.

"A mutual touching and caressing with the lips, sometimes including the tongues, commonly referred to as a kiss," the MX states like a talking dictionary. "In the majority of cases, a kiss of this degree of intimacy is an expression of great affection or amorousness. Sometimes it can also initiate and be part of further sexual actions, known as 'foreplay.' "

"I know what a kiss is!" Richard snaps. "I meant, how come you can kiss like that?"

"As I mentioned before, I conducted extensive research on the matter. Did you find my performance satisfactory?" the combat droid asks, as if this was the annual review of its professional efficiency on the police job.

Richard shrugs, trying to play down the mild arousal he feels indeed. "It wasn't too bad," he admits, figuring it would be pointless to claim that the kiss had been awful. The damn MX can read his physical reactions and surely wouldn't hesitate to give him a full analysis of his dick's current status, loudly noting the gradually increasing percentage of blood flow.

"Would you like to repeat the activity, sir?"

Richard laughs, even though the situation isn't really funny at all. He feels a spark of panic when he realizes that, _yes_, he would like to repeat it. He doesn't want to admit it, but he totally yearns to feel that soft mouth again. He knows it's wrong and ridiculous and he shouldn't be feeling this. But here he is, trying to suppress the growing desire that threatens to overwhelm him when he looks at his MX's lips. _What a fucking predicament._

"You are hesitating," the MX analyzes. Richard hates to be dissected like that.

When Alex suddenly touches his shoulder, he reacts way more aggressively than he actually wants. Shaking off the android's hand, he grabs it by the wrist with rough vehemence to keep it at bay. He ends up being a contradiction to his own intentions as he suddenly pulls his partner closer instead of pushing it away. He doesn't even understand himself anymore when he goes in for another kiss. It's not a careful but a hungry one, revealing all his pent-up want. He tries to frame the MX's face with his hands, but winds up clutching at the stupid helmet instead. Holding the bot's head in place, he continues to kiss it as if his life depended on it, and Alex goes along with it. Fumbling at the clasps of the helmet to get it off, Richard only stops the kiss to take a much needed breath. Alex holds still and watches him with a glimpse of curiosity as Richard drops the helmet to the floor of the passenger side first, and then pushes back the android's elastic hood that is connected to its tight shirt. Running his fingers through the short, blond hair, the human cop leans in again and greedily presses his lips to the soft, always so serious synthetic mouth.

One of the android's hands finds its way to his thigh and slides up to his crotch, the strong fingers moving over the quickly growing bulge that Richard can't hide anymore at this stage. There's a low, approving noise coming from his throat, but he's not sure if his MX is able to interpret a sound like that in the correct way, so he puts his own hand on top of the synthetic's and leads it into a little rhythm. His enthusiastic dick grows so big and hard from the massage, it feels as if it's about to burst from his pants. This doesn't go unnoticed by Alex. Very pragmatically, the combat android opens the button and the fly of Richard's trousers and pushes his underwear out of the way, making the human's erection spring free. Richard can't hold back a groan of pleasure when he feels the large, warm hand close around his thick shaft, squeezing and stroking just the right way. Assuming that the MX has never done anything like this before, he can only guess that it is monitoring his body readings and therefore can tell what he likes without any difficulties. It just needs to read his physical responses to each and every touch and can figure out the ideal practice in a short amount of time.

And those miraculous research downloads probably play a role too. It's like the MX knows exactly what to do and how to do it. That's so strange.

Not that Richard is complaining.

"Oh God," he breathes against his partner's mouth as he feels the robot's busy fingers tending to the sensitive tip of his cock. They rub the tender skin in systematic, steady circles, spreading the first few drops of fluid that are welling up. Involuntarily lifting his hips from the seat to make a shallow thrust into the MX's hand, Richard silently thanks himself for keeping Alex from putting on its gloves earlier. That bare hand feels so good; very smooth, with a firm but not too hard grip, and much warmer than he'd expected. Promptly reacting to the wordless demand that's indicated by the thrust, Alex closes its full hand around the hard length of the hot human flesh, moving up and down in long, even strokes, again and again. Richard squirms in his seat, panting for air.

"Is this adequate pressure, Detective Paul?"

"It's perfect," Richard groans, closing his eyes and burying his face in the crook of the MX's neck. Alex is still a good deal taller than him, even when they both sit, and it's just too exhausting to constantly stretch his upper body so he can be at eye level with his partner. It's much more comfortable to just relax and slump against the android's solid frame. "And don't call me 'Detective Paul' or 'Sir' while we do this," he mumbles, his lips brushing Alex's strong neck. "It's off-putting..."

"I understand."

_Hallelujah._ He didn't think he'd hear that phrase out of the bot's mouth anytime soon.

"Richard," the MX adds unexpectedly, as if it needs to test the sound of his name rolling off its tongue. Or maybe it wants his approval because it's still not sure which way of addressing him would be the most suitable in the current situation.

As a response, Richard gently bites the skin at Alex's neck, ignoring the weirdly neutral, artificial taste. His hand moves now, too, and slips under the android's tight shirt. Exploring the bare synthetic skin, he feels the contours of those insane abs and the chiseled chest he'd already marvelled at when Alex undressed at the hospital. The MX doesn't flinch.

It's actually Richard who pulls away with a start, when suddenly bright headlights graze them as another police car arrives at the parking lot. The car drives in a big half-circle, aiming for a free space closer to the building. The lights had blinded him for only a second and the car doesn't stop until it reaches its final parking position, but Richard isn't certain that whoever is in that car didn't see them. For a moment, he is paralyzed and just stares through the front window at that damn car.

The MX seems confused. Well, as confused as a bot of his make can be. "What's - "

"Shhh!" Watching the headlights of the car turn off and the doors swing open, Richard pushes Alex's hand from his crotch and stuffs his dick back into his pants. It's uncomfortable because he's still hard. The duo that climbs out of the car turns out to be Officer Anderson and his MX.

"_Fuck_," Richard mutters under his breath, praying that neither of them caught a glimpse of what was happening inside of this car when they passed by. Nervously, he zips up.

"Will you put on your helmet already?!" he hisses at Alex, who just sits there and does nothing. Complying, the android pulls up the hood of its shirt first. Then it bends down, picks up its helmet and puts it back on.

Anderson and his partner walk to the building and enter without looking back to the far corner of the huge parking area where Richard's car is standing in the shadows. Richard takes that as a good sign. They surely would have looked back if they had seen anything uncommon that caught their attention. Such as a senior detective making out with an MX.

"All right," Richard says, slowly breathing in and out to calm his nerves. "I guess you better get back to your cozy booth now." There's a hint of regret in his dark brown eyes when he looks at the MX sitting next to him. But this is just too risky. He's already taken it too far, and maybe next time some more cops drive by, he won't be so lucky as to remain undiscovered. The parking area of the police property definitely isn't the right place for this.

"Is it okay if you walk over there on your own? I, uh, need a few more minutes." Even though the shock of almost being caught in the act goes deep and puts a great damper on everything, it doesn't really make Richard's severe hard-on go away in an instant. Eventually it will soften when it doesn't get any further attention, but it'll take some time.

"Yes," the blond MX confirms. "That won't be a problem."

Richard nods. "Okay then. I'll see you later," he says a bit awkwardly and waits for the android to get out of the car. Before it closes the door, it turns to face him once more, bending down a bit to look at him.

"Good night, Richard. Sleep well."

Richard can't help but smile a little, even though he knows that the MX won't ever return the gesture.

"Yeah, thanks. You too," he replies. "I mean, _charge well_," he adds before Alex has the chance to remind him that MXs don't actually sleep like humans.

Sitting in darkness inside of the car, he watches his MX march across the parking lot. His gaze shifts from its broad shoulders down its strong back that tapers into narrow hips and impossibly long legs. At first glance, a really attractive figure with perfect measurements for a male - if Alex was human at all.

_Human or not_, Richard thinks as he ogles his MX's rear view, _Alex is a pretty fine piece of ass. _

Realizing where his thoughts are going, he wants to smack his face into the driving wheel.

_Hell, this whole 'Show, don't tell' plan really backfired like a motherfucker!_

He tries to make his hormones calm down by thinking of something disgusting. Like Kennex slurping coffee and munching on donuts, with crumbs falling from his mouth and sugar powder smeared everywhere. _Yuck._

As soon as his MX vanishes safely into the building, Richard starts the engine of the car and drives home. His boner is long gone by the time he arrives at his apartment, but he takes a quick hot shower and jerks off anyway, just to get the tension out of his system.

At least he can finally sleep when he crawls into his bed afterwards.


End file.
